


Reunion

by fictionalportal



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Catra betrays the Horde, F/F, First Kiss, Hurt/Comfort, Making Up, Marriage Proposal, Near Future, Post-Canon, Reconciliation, Some Humor, and now i've got 5k words of angst, and uh there might be a, bc infected adora is pure comedy, i.....i just wanted to write floppy!adora, if you can't get enough canon catradora store bought is fine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-19
Updated: 2019-05-19
Packaged: 2020-03-07 19:16:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18879529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictionalportal/pseuds/fictionalportal
Summary: Catra betrays the Horde--and wakes up in a Bright Moon prison cell. To her surprise, she's not alone."A little snort jolted her awake.Had she actually dozed off and startled herself with her own snoring?Then the sound came again.Catra slowly turned to look at the opposite side of her cell. Even in the dying light, she could see a large lump in the opposite corner. The lump uncurled itself, splaying its arms and legs out.No way.“Adora?” Catra whispered."





	Reunion

An unbearable, throbbing pain in her left temple woke Catra up. Slowly, she blinked her eyes open. She must have gotten knocked out by one of those idiot princesses...

Why was it so dark? And why was the forest floor so cold?

She pushed herself up and sat back against the wall.

Hang on.

Forests don’t have walls.

Catra felt her pulse pick up. This wasn’t right. None of this was right.

She was supposed to be in the Whispering Woods planting explosives on the undersides of tanks, sabotaging the Horde’s last big push on Bright Moon. She wasn’t doing it to help the princesses--as if Adora would ever let her live that down. No, Catra was carving out a little slice of revenge for herself. After Hordak nearly suffocated her after Shadow Weaver’s escape, any allegiance Catra ever had to the Horde went up in smoke. Her demotion still left her in charge of a significant portion of the Horde’s operations, and she’d been finding little ways to slow them down from the inside. Tangling communications. Secretly botching supply orders. She might not have had the status of being Hordak’s second anymore, but she’d finally found real, tangible power.

Until, apparently, the princesses took her prisoner.

A horrifying thought flashed through Catra’s mind. What if it wasn’t the princesses at all? What if the Horde had won the battle in the Woods, discovered her treachery, and taken her back to the Fright Zone?

As her heart threatened to tear a hole in her chest, Catra’s claws scraped and screeched against the stone floor.

Stone. The Horde built their prisons out of synthetic materials, not big rocks. Catra sniffed the air--a distinct lack of sulfur and industrial rot. So she wasn’t in the Fright Zone. That could only mean--

A poorly-oiled metal hinge creaked. On the other side of the room, a door opened, letting a sliver of light sneak into the room. Catra took in everything she could: the row of bars a few feet in front of her; fresh bandages wrapping the length of her forearms; a familiar, broad-shouldered silhouette peeking in through the doorframe.

“Glimmer, she’s awake!” Bow called back over his shoulder.

Annoying, tiny footsteps echoed down the hall, sprinting closer.

A smaller, stouter, poofier silhouette shoved Bow into the room.

With a shimmery sound, ethereal pink light filled the space. The little particles suspended themselves in the air and shined like stars--well, what Catra imagined stars might look like, anyway. Maybe someday she’d be able to admit to herself how cool these princess powers could be.

Glimmer’s gaze landed on Catra, hostile as ever. Catra couldn’t help but smirk.

“Bow, I thought you meant Adora,” Glimmer chastised.

“Sorry,” Bow mumbled.

Catra stood up, which proved to be more difficult than anticipated. She shrugged off the pain in her ankle and took a few steps towards the bars, wrapping her fingers around the cool metal. “Aw. You sound disappointed, Glitter.”

“You--!” Glimmer swallowed whatever insults she was considering hurling. She spoke pointedly to Bow. “Tell me when Adora wakes up.” With one final, sharp glare at Catra, she stormed out.

Catra snickered--another thing that turned out to be terribly uncomfortable. Absently, her hand floated up to clutch her side, angering a particularly tender spot just below her right armpit. The ribs there were definitely bruised, maybe even cracked.

“So,” Catra started, forcing her voice to sound as disinterested and bored as possible. “Guess you got me.”

Bow hovered just inside the door, giving no indication that he would be coming any closer. His eyes narrowed. “Why were you attacking your own ships?”

“What, no banter? You princesses have really lost your spark.”

“Just tell me,” Bow pressed.

“Ugh. And I thought the Fright Zone was where fun goes to die.” Catra leaned more of her weight against the bars, _definitely_ because she was feeling extra-casual and _not_ because her left ankle felt like it could give out any second.

Bow finally came into the room, still just out of Catra’s reach. What was her plan, anyway? Coax him into coming close enough that she knock him out and escape? Like that would work. Even if he just so happened to have the right key on him, Catra wouldn’t make it far with her injuries. She’d probably collapse in the hallway. The last thing she’d see before passing out would be Shimmer’s stupid, smug face. It wasn’t worth it.

Bow spoke again, his words slow and deliberate. “Perfuma said she saw you disable a Horde tank.”

“Maybe she’s right. Maybe she got a faceful of her own spores and started hallucinating. It can be so hard to know what you’re seeing in the heat of battle.” She examined her nails, scuffed and broken. What could she possibly gain from taunting him, from hiding the truth? And yet, she couldn’t seem to stop. What was she after? The petty satisfaction of successfully deceiving her enemy?

Were they even enemies anymore?

“Answer the question, Catra.”

She froze and finally held eye contact. He looked almost as battered as she felt, the poor kid. That’s what he was--that’s what they all were. Children, conscripted into a war they didn’t understand.

“Why do you care?” Catra asked.

“If it’s true, if you really switched sides, it could make the council go a whole lot easier on you.”

Catra felt her eyes widen involuntarily. She covered it up with a nonchalant scoff. “The council? Please. They’ve already made their mind up about me.”

“Not all of them,” Bow pushed. “Not me. Maybe Glimmer. But if you’re really responsible for taking down all those tanks, there’s a chance they’ll let you go.”

As if Catra had anywhere left.

“I still don’t see how any of this is your problem,” she said.

“I know it’s been a long fight, but Adora still cares about you. I don’t think she’d be very happy if she had to come down to the prison to visit you.”

Catra’s heart skipped, a scratched record when it came to Adora. How was it possible that just hearing her name could do that? Stupid, persistent hope. They could never go back to normal. Catra would never fall asleep at the foot of Adora’s bed again, the vibrations of her light snoring more comforting than any blanket. By staying with the Horde, Catra had broken what they had, twisted and bent it like a copper wire until it snapped.

Turning on the Horde wasn’t some last-ditch attempt to win Adora back--it was far too late for that. Catra knew there was no coming back from the things she’d done. Countless lives destroyed on her orders. Etheria in near-shambles. And none of it had soothed her own grief. Where was her power now? Had she ever really had any before defecting? The Rebellion would never embrace her as an ally. Adora would never embrace her again at all.

Stupid.

She sat down slowly, awkwardly, careful not to twist her ankle. Before her silence could answer for her, she spoke. Quietly.

“Adora doesn’t care what happens to me.”

Bow dipped his head in concession and retreated to the door. He paused. “Maybe you should ask her yourself.”

Catra growled. “Get out.”

“Just so you know, she might still be a little loopy when she wakes up.” With that, he disappeared into the hallway. The door creaked shut behind him.

What was that supposed to mean? Why would Catra need to know that?

At least Adora hadn’t gotten hurt too bad when Entrapta set off her latest invention. The mad scientist had found another one of those eerie red discs buried in a First Ones ruin and used it to create a “She-M-P,” an electromagnetic wave that could infect She-Ra’s sword without having to touch it at all. From the sound of it, Adora had survived.

Catra wanted to brush it off, wanted to pretend she didn’t care either way.

But of course she did.

The faint, pink light was growing dimmer by the second. Soon Catra would be in the dark again. Alone. A part of her always knew it would end this way, but the reality still stung like a full-body rug burn.

She shuffled back into the corner of her cell and pulled her knees into her chest. After everything, she could use some actual rest. Growing up in the Fright Zone, she’d mastered the ability to fall asleep on any surface no matter how uncomfortable, but her skull felt like it was about to split in half.

Maybe closing her eyes would help. If she pretended she was asleep long enough, her body might start to believe it.

A little snort jolted her awake.

Had she actually dozed off and startled herself with her own snoring?

Then it happened again.

Catra slowly turned to look at the opposite side of her cell. Even in the dying light, she could see a large lump in the opposite corner. The lump uncurled itself, splaying its arms and legs out.

“Adora?” Catra whispered.

More snoring, too familiar to be anyone else’s.

Catra padded across the cold floor. She considered shaking Adora awake, but she looked so...happy. Maybe she was dreaming about the days before the war, before She-Ra, before betrayal.

And so, Catra just sat there, watching, frozen in an asymmetrical squat. The position turned out to be a little too uncomfortable, however, and her slightly less damaged leg started to cramp. She tried to catch herself, but her useless ankle couldn’t bear an ounce of weight. Gracelessly, she tumbled onto the cell floor.

Fortunately and unfortunately, the sound of her toppling was enough to disturb Adora’s rest.

She opened her eyes slowly and wiggled her fingers to life. With a massive yawn, she sat up.

“Whoa, this’s a funny-looking--Catra!”

Catra had no time to brace herself before Adora pounced. Her weight slammed Catra to the ground again.

“Get off me!” Catra squeaked.

“Mmm, you’re a itchy pillow.” One of Adora’s arm snaked around Catra’s waist.

Oh, no.

“You’re still infected,” Catra said quietly.

“Pfft, more like you’re infected,” Adora countered uselessly. She buried her face in Catra’s hair and inhaled deeply.

Catra would felt a bit more self-conscious if it were actually Adora doing all this--but she knew it wasn’t. Not really. Entrapta’s anti-She-Ra EMP had worked, and the Rebellion still hadn’t figured out how to fix the sword. As long as it was bugging out, Adora would be stuck like this.

“Catraaaa,” Adora whined, “you’re so scratchy and growly.”

“I am not,” Catra argued. Why was she even bothering? Ugh, this would be so much easier if Adora didn’t insist on being halfway on top of her.

“I’m just gun’ take a nap, mmkay?”

Out of options, Catra yelled. “Bow! Get in here, now!”

Within seconds, the door flew open and Bow burst in. As soon as he saw Adora, his face split into a grin. “Adora! Glimmer, get in here, now!” He called down the corridor, echoing Catra’s words with significantly less irritation in his voice.

Catra shoved Adora off of her, but thanks to her current state of exhaustion it manifested much less gruffly than intended.

Glimmer appeared in a flash of pink sparkles. Seriously? Did her powers actually have to be the epitome of goody-two-shoes?

She lit up the room again, brighter than before, no doubt overexcited at the sight of a conscious Adora. “You’re okay!” Glimmer exclaimed. “How are you feeling?”

“Honestly, a little chilly,” Catra cut in.

“Not you,” Glimmer bit back.

Adora guffawed to herself as if she’d just heard the world’s funniest silent joke. “Hi, Glimmer.”

“She’s still all floppy and weird,” Bow explained. “Spinnerella and Netossa are interrogating Entrapta right how to figure out how to reverse the EMP and get the sword back to normal.”

“Who cares about a stupid sword,” Catra muttered to herself. She glanced down at Adora, who had apparently taken the shove as an open invitation to rest her head on Catra’s shoulder.

Of all the things Catra thought to sabotage, she never messed with Entrapta’s device--it was too dangerous, too volatile. What if tampering with it made it overload, destroying She-Ra altogether? Would Adora be here at all? It hadn’t been worth the risk. Somehow, even with She-Ra down, the Rebellion had managed to come out on top. Catra wondered, selfishly, if she’d had a small part in securing that victory.

Adora’s stomach growled.

“Haha, whoa,” Adora remarked profoundly.

Glimmer leapt into action. “I’ll go get you some food.”

“Yaaayy! Picnic!”

“...Sure. Whatever you want, Adora.” Glimmer replied. Catra swore she saw tears of relief welling up in the princess’ eyes before she vanished.

Adora’s weight against Catra’s side wasn’t altogether comfortable, but she couldn’t bring herself to push away a second time.

“Is She-Ra some kind of war criminal now?” Catra asked, half-joking. There had to be a reason Adora was in here with her.

Bow shook his head. “She has a tendency to wander off when she’s like this. The rest of the Princess Alliance is either in the medical ward or busy rounding up Horde stragglers, so we kinda had to improvise.”

Catra hummed. “And I’m in here with her because...?”

“Well...” He petered off, his voice climbing up the octave.

“Would you spit it out already?”

Adora was entertaining herself by twirling Catra’s hair around her finger. And making airplane sounds for some reason.

Bow cleared his throat. “Since Perfuma said you turned on the Horde, the council voted to keep you separated from the other soldiers. In case, you know.”

Catra raised an eyebrow, the implication hitting her squarely in the chest. The Horde had every reason to want her dead; that much was true. She doubted that the front-line grunts cared enough to enact Hordak’s wrath on her, but she was thankful the Rebels hadn’t given them the chance.

“Thanks,” Catra finally managed.

Bow nodded firmly. “You’re welcome. I’ll go make sure Glimmer brings enough food for both of you.”

For the first time in months, Catra was alone with Adora--and Adora was magically wasted. Wonderful.

While Adora continued playing with her hair, Catra crossed her arms in resignation. As soon as she lifted her hands out of her lap, though, Adora’s head fell into the vacant spot.

Wide-eyed, Catra looked down. There she was: the girl Catra had gone to war to get back. Only now could she see that her tactics had been doomed all along. Fighting never brought people together.

Adora poked Catra’s forehead. “Boop. Ahaha. Got youuu.”

Ordinarily such a taunt--especially one delivered so incoherently--wouldn’t get to Catra. Maybe it was the cold seeping into her skin, maybe it was something else entirely, but she felt her own icy veneer slaking off. For months (and maybe even for years before that) she’d maintained a certain necessary distance in Adora’s presence. She’d tried so hard to keep her cool: tossing out “whatevers” in response to any setback, blowing up her own tech just to piss off the Rebellion, pretending she didn’t care when Adora stuck a boot in a bot’s camera just to tease her.

The most important lesson Shadow Weaver ever taught her was to hide her weaknesses. Young Catra, of course, found a way to rebel against that advice. Now that Catra thought about it, she’d betrayed the Horde the second she’d decided to trust Adora. Trust was more dangerous than princesses as far as the Horde was concerned. Emotional intimacy of any kind only led to clouded judgment and bias. From the start, Catra’s allegiance to the Horde was imperfect, and Adora, despite her perfect follower’s facade, never questioned what they had.

Before they ever started their official training, they learned how to comfort each other and push each other’s buttons. Even when Adora left the Horde, that didn’t change. They might have been fighting on opposite sides of a war for reasons neither entirely understood, but they could never drift apart.

Fought, Catra reminded herself. The war...was over. As of today, there was no more Horde.

“Your skin’s so soft,” Adora babbled. “And wet. Like a frog. I’m ‘unna call you Frog-ra.”

Catra brushed her palm against her face and realized that floppy Adora was correct. Her cheeks were a bit damp, but certainly not from any sort of amphibious inclination.

“I missed you so much,” Adora slurred, stretching her arms over her head and punctuating her sentence with an inappropriately cheerful giggle.

The tug in Catra’s stomach nearly distracted her into confessing that she felt the same.

“We shu’get married.”

Catra blinked.

Adora stared up at her, eyes half-closed, a goofy smile plastered on her face.

“Don’t be dumb,” Catra mumbled quickly.

“I don’t wanna miss you anymore,” Adora’s voice cracked. She tangled her fingers in the fabric of Catra’s shirt, accidentally untucking it.

Catra sighed. She clasped Adora’s hand in hers, gently encouraging her to release the shirt. “Adora, you’re like, drunk or whatever.” Despite her dismissive words, her tone was gentle.

“We ca’ have a chocolate cake,” Adora offered. “Izzat still your favorite?”

“...Yeah.”

Adora hummed happily and pressed her cheek against Catra’s stomach like a little kitten. How could she possibly remember something that insignificant? They’d rarely ever gotten to indulge in sweets in the Fright Zone. It was apparently something ordinary people often ate when celebrating, but Catra could count the number of times she’d tasted it on two fingers. The first time, it was chocolate and she was barely old enough to understand a three-syllable word like “victory.” All Catra recalled was smearing chocolate frosting on Adora’s nose. Then, when they were teenagers, Adora was up all night crying about a terrible pain in her abdomen. Catra, already experienced when it came to combating cramps, snuck out of the barracks and broke into the mess hall in search of sweets. She found a piece of vanilla cake in the cook’s personal stash and nicked it, but both she and Adora agreed that chocolate was the superior flavor. Years later, Adora still remembered. Somehow.

It was all too much.

“Adora?”

The humming continued. Catra didn’t recognize the tune.

“Adora,” Catra said more firmly.

When Adora opened her eyes again, a smile cut across her lips. “Catraaa!” She crescendoed, sounding pleasantly surprised.

It was pointless trying to have a serious conversation when she was like this. They might have a few precious minutes before Bow and Glimmer returned. Before the sword was fixed and Adora ran out, disgusted to be in her enemy’s presence. Before Catra spent the rest of her life rotting in a cell.

Adora’s uncharacteristically clammy palm landed on Catra’s cheek. The motion wasn’t entirely coordinated, so it felt more like a half-hearted slap than a comforting gesture. “Wha’s wrong?” Adora asked, her expression cartoonishly serious.

Catra just turned her head away, pulling away from the touch.

“You don’ wanna get married?”

There was definitely no safe way to answer that, especially with Adora looking like she was on the verge of crying. Great. Catra could officially ruin anybody’s good mood, even if it was induced by some kind of unstoppable magical parasite.

Just then, the heavy door squeaked open again. Catra practically leapt out of her own skin at the sound.

Bow and Glimmer each walked in with a tray of surprisingly delicious-looking food.

“Hiiiii!” Adora sang.

“Wow, if I knew this place had such good room service, I would’ve let myself get captured a while ago,” Catra drawled.

Glimmer passed her tray through the slot at the bottom of the cell, deliberately shoving it towards Adora’s side. Catra considered stealing a bite just to piss off the sparkliest Princess even more, but that would involve moving Adora out of her lap. That, quite simply, was not an option. Plus, Glimmer was already fuming at the sight of them cuddled up in the cell, so Catra figured she didn’t need to expend any more effort.

Bow pushed the other tray through. “Netossa said they got Entrapta to cooperate.”

“It’s not like she was resisting,” Glimmer said. “All they had to do was give her a tiny cupcake.”

“So much for loyalty,” Catra shrugged, disaffected.

She saw something in Glimmer’s eye that she could only describe as murderous intent.

Catra let her hand settle on Adora's head and put on her most innocent mask. “What?” 

Glimmer looked like she might actually explode if she had to spend another minute in Catra's presence. The war might be over, but their battle had always been more personal. 

Adora tugged on Catra’s hair. “Chocolate cupcakes?”

“Yeah, sure, Adora.”

“Wooo!” Adora shrieked. Her head lolled to the side as she looked at her friends outside the cell. “You guys are invited.”

“What’s she talking about?” Glimmer asked.

“Nothing,” Catra said quickly.

Bow slid in, cutting off any further interaction between Catra and Glimmer at its knees. “Anyways...Adora should be fine in a little bit.”

“Awesome,” Catra said, hoping she sounded a little less eager than she felt. Even if Adora was furious at her, having her back to normal would be less uncomfortable than whatever this had turned into. She couldn’t stomach the touching and near-crying and _proposing_ much longer. It was all insincere--it had to be--but Catra was dangerously close to leaping off the cliff of self-control and letting herself enjoy it.

Bow shepherded Glimmer into the hallway, leaving them once again.

“Hey, Catra. Heyyyy.”

All she could do was sigh. “Yeah?”

“I--”

Without warning, Adora went completely limp. This wasn’t just the bizarre floppiness--she’d passed out.

“Adora?” Catra tried shaking her shoulders, but she was unresponsive. “Adora?!”

Until Adora’s eyes fluttered open. They flashed bright red, but that perfect, steely blue-gray returned a moment later.

“C--Catra?”

“Hey, Adora.” She didn’t bother injecting any venom into the greeting. Instead, she breathed out nothing but affection, too exhausted to hide behind her trademark layers of flirtation and teasing.

“You’re here?”

“You’re shocked I ended up in prison?”

Adora sat up on her knees and looked around, apparently just becoming aware of their surroundings. “What...what happened?”

“In the battle or while you were magically stoned?”

“While I was--” Adora’s face screwed itself up into the cutest confused expression Catra had ever seen. It was nearly the same face she’d made when she figured out the Horde was evil.

If she’d had any energy left, Catra would have played it cool and acted like none of it mattered. But it did--it mattered more than anything, this conversation. It could very well be her last chance.

“The Horde’s gone,” Catra said.

Adora stared through the floor as she processed the news. “Gone?”

“They lost.”

“They?” There it was, that familiar edge. A few months ago, that tone would have been foreign to Catra, but she’d come to understand it as the only filter through which she might hear Adora’s voice.

Catra shifted and crossed her legs so that they were facing one another. “I kind of blew up half their tanks.”

Adora’s eyes went wide. “You did?”

Catra scoffed. “Duh. I’m great at blowing stuff up.” Tanks, skiffs, friendships...

“So you...betrayed the Horde.” Adora spoke as if she were solving a complex math problem.

“A little.”

“A little? How do you betray something a little?”

There were a thousand malformed comebacks swirling in Catra’s mind, but none was worth saying out loud. She didn’t want this to become another petty argument.

“I missed you, too,” Catra admitted.

Adora blinked several times.

Of course. It would be just her luck. Catra cocked her head to one side. “You don’t remember.”

“Remember what?”

“When you were all infected just now?”

Adora shook her head. “It’s hazy. At best.”

“Hm. Well, you proposed to me.”

Suddenly, Adora was the same color as a Horde jacket. “What? I did not.”

“I’m just trying to help you fill in the blanks,” Catra needled. She’d forgotten how fun it was to rile Adora up without life-or-death stakes.

“This is--you don’t--ugh!” Adora dropped her head into her palms, hiding her face.

The sight of Adora embarrassed into speechlessness made Catra chuckle. “Relax. I know you didn’t mean it.”

Adora looked up at her. “Even without that Force Captain badge, you are definitely still infuriating.”

Catra shrugged. “What can I say? I’m just too good at being bad.”

She hadn’t intended for her remark to shift the mood in the room, and she certainly hadn’t meant it as some sort of double entendre. She really had been quite good at the whole villainy thing before deciding to take her talents to a new team. Her own team, she’d thought.

But no.

She was never on her own, no matter how often she felt like it in recent months. Even when Adora wasn’t physically present, she’d always been in Catra’s thoughts. Even when she was first and foremost a key strategic variable, she was a constant. Even when they weren’t speaking beyond battle cries and threats, Catra could still remember the sound of her laugh.

Catra wanted to shift closer, but she didn’t dare. “I really did miss you, Adora.”

Adora mumbled something to the rock floor.

“What?”

She sheepishly glanced up to catch Catra’s eye. “I said I like it when you say my name like that. It’s nice.”

Catra let her palms rest on the floor behind her. The stone felt good against her heated hands, cooling and grounding. Two things she desperately needed to survive this conversation in one piece.

“So...what now?” Adora’s question hung in the thick air between them.

“From what I hear, improvising’s all the rage here in the Rebellion,” Catra said. “Got any suggestions?”

Adora licked her lips and went into what Catra instantly recognized as deep thought mode.

“Don’t hurt yourself.”

“Jerk,” Adora said, smirking a little. “I guess we should see how things go with the council. They’ll have somewhere between one and a thousand questions for you.”

“Your friend mentioned that,” Catra said.

So much of her wanted to just ask--was there any chance for them? It would be like ripping a bandage off. She’d either find healthy scabs over her wounds or start bleeding all over again. It was that second possibility that gave her such strong reason to stay quiet.

In front of her, Adora was thinking hard again. This time, her eyes were trained on Catra, drifting over her features slowly enough to memorize each freckle.

“I can’t believe you’re really here,” Adora said quietly. The corners of her lips tugged up into an impossibly soft smile. It wasn’t fair of her to aim that expression at Catra. After everything, it didn’t make any sense.

Catra couldn’t bear to keep looking at it. “Kinda thought you’d be angry to see me.” With her attention on the floor again, Catra didn’t notice Adora leaning in closer.

“Furious,” Adora whispered. The word ghosted over Catra’s lips and drew her gaze up--just in time for her to see Adora close the gap between them.

For a few seconds, Catra forgot how to blink. Or move. Or breathe. Adora was kissing her?

Back in the Fright Zone, Catra sometimes fell asleep wondering if such a thing could ever happen between them. She tried not to think about it during the day, certain that even considering such a thing while the sun was up would be equivalent to crossing some invisible line. But there were those occasional nights when Adora refused to let Catra stay at the foot of the bed. Maybe Adora had stumbled during a training drill. Perhaps Shadow Weaver had been particularly merciless in disciplining Catra. Sometimes, it was just too cold and dark to sleep alone. Those nights, when Adora would pull her up to lie side-by-side and hold her close, it was impossible to think about anything else.

And now, it was happening for real. The cell was as cold and dark as the old barracks, but there was enough light in that kiss to keep them both warm.

Catra closed her eyes and forced her anxious brain to stop questioning it all, melting into the moment and praying it would never, ever end.

Inevitably, though, Adora pulled away. As the urge to panic kicked in, Catra reminded herself that human beings needed to breathe, especially after kissing their former best friends turned arch nemeses turned something excitingly and terrifyingly undefined.

Falling back on what she knew best, Catra went for a sarcastic comment. “Guess I was right. You seem totally pissed off. Incensed, even.”

“Shut up.” Adora pressed their lips together again, effectively shutting down any further teasing.

“Yeah,” Catra agreed. She was pleased to hear Adora laugh in response.

Calloused hands cradled Catra’s face, one thumb brushing over her cheekbone.

“We’ll be okay,” Adora promised.

Catra knew it was true.

***

**Author's Note:**

> *sobbing* i just wanted to write floppy!adora jokes...
> 
> tumblr: somnambule-plus


End file.
